we don't talk anymore

therapist's office.

"hey Tyler, how are you?" my therapist asked, tapping his pen on his notepad, the constant sound irritated me.

"i'm okay." i answer. i stared down at my hands. There were a few cuts and bruises scattered all over them and my nails were extremely short due to me biting them. My knuckles were dry.

i looked at my feet and saw my black converse sneakers that i bought recently. I was in desperate need of new shoes, considering my old pair were torn apart and the heel was hanging on by a thread, barely.

My therapist, Dr. Morton, asked the same questions every week. He'd ask how I was doing, if i took my anxiety medication, what happened recently, how i feel about these events happening in my life, whatever. He rarely asked different questions and it was basically a routine. Come here every Wednesday after school for an hour, be scolded for not taking the medication I don't need, answer the same questions, and eventually go home.

So, after staring at my knuckles and answering the same questions with the same answers, boredom starting to take over, I hear him move in his seat. I look up and see him hunched over, his elbows on his knees and his hands folded together.

"have you talked to Josh?"

that question is the question I always hope he never asked, sometimes he sees I don't want to talk about Josh, so he doesn't ask but I know he wants to. but, every few weeks he brings up the question.

"no."

"have you seen him?" his question hangs in the air, I look up expecting to see the words, but all I see is a ceiling fan slowly moving around in circles, doing nothing but distracting me.

"yes." I mumble after a few seconds of silence.

Dr. Morton sits back in his chair, staring at me. he folds his right leg over his left and rests his hand on his knee.

"do you two have any classes together?"

"we have 3 classes together. we don't even look at each other." I inform him.

my words hang in the air, and we're surrounded by silence again. I look up at the ceiling and stare at the ceiling fan, imagining the worst things. i hear the sound of switch and before I know it the fan is moving slower, and slower, and slower, and it stops.

"you miss him don't you?" I hear Dr. Morton ask, I look up and notice he's not in his chair, instead he's by the wall near a switch. he leans against it, hands in his pockets and looks at me.

"no I don't miss him."

"are you sure?"

I open my mouth to speak but stop myself. I think about josh, our memories and inside jokes, and let out a sigh. I close my eyes and run my hands through my short hair and over my face.

"no. I do miss him. but he's different now, i'm different now. so I guess I only miss the memories." I tell him, staring at the coffee table in front of me, holding a glass of water (on a coaster of course). the water starts shaking as Dr. Morton walks toward his chair, sits in front of me and says, "we'll talk more next week, tyler."

I nod, stand up and shuffle out the door, quickly. I close the door behind me and stare at the ground as my feet lead me out of the office and outside, looking for my mom's car.

A/N: HEY GUYS THANKS FOR READING SORRY THIS IS SO BORING BUT IT'S THE FIRST CHAPTER. ALSO S/O TO MY EDITOR WHO'S MY BEST FRIEND SHE ALSO RUNS THIS ACCOUNT WHICH IS PRETTY GREAT.